


Muggle Culture Week: The Snow Storm

by abigail89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 23:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron and Harry’s first day of Muggle cultural training as Aurors is complicated by London’s biggest snowfall in 18 years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muggle Culture Week: The Snow Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Written just in time for Ron Weasley’s 29th birthday and during a snow shower for the [](http://hprwfqf.livejournal.com/profile)[**hprwfqf**](http://hprwfqf.livejournal.com/). I’m thinking this is begging to be continued…

*~*

"Damn, the snow's really getting deep out there," Ron exclaims as he comes through the door. He's levitating a pile of firewood in front of him which he expertly guides to the side of the fireplace in the living room. "And it's getting a lot colder."

"Hey, you're not supposed to be using magic. Remember?" Harry says, looking up from the document he's writing at the desk. “Nice fire, by the way.”

Ron looks back at his best mate and Auror partner. "Thanks. Dad taught us to build fires out by the pond the Muggle way.” He brushes his hands off. “I thought we could use magic inside the house during ‘Introduction to Muggle Culture Week’; we just can't use it while we're outside in this Muggle neighborhood."

"Nope, they changed it," Harry replies, tossing him a large binder. "Well, more specifically, I changed it."

"You? Why'd you do that? And why did Kingsley listen to you? You're just a trainee!" Ron say, hands on hips.

"Thanks for that," Harry deadpans.

"Sorry, that didn't come out right. I mean, why would you not want to use magic?"

"The whole point of living in a Muggle house is to understand how Muggles live and work," Harry says, getting up to sit beside Ron on the sofa. "We have to live like them so that we know how to blend in in case a dark wizard decides to wreck havoc."

"Walk a mile in their shoes," Ron says.

"Exactly. So not only do we have to take the Tube and buses to get to the Ministry every day, we also have to walk to buy food and other things at Muggle shops, use the telephone and a computer. Cook our meals on the cooker. It takes a lot of time to be a Muggle."

"But why do you have to do it? You grew up with Muggles." Ron is intoxicated by Harry's nearness, and leans in to nuzzle his black curls with his nose. "Mmm, I do like the shampoo you're using. 's nice."

Harry squirms, pressing his leg hard up against Ron's. "All Aurors have to go through this training. I'm no exception. Besides, it's not so bad, and I get to spend all this time with you."

Ron presses his hand along the hard muscle of Harry’s thigh and it winds its way to his crotch. “But we can spend time at our flat in the wizarding world. Why is it a good thing to spend time where it takes longer to do stuff, like retrieve a butterbeer or the lube?” He cocks his head as his lips find Harry’s neck.

Harry lets out a softly strangled oath whilst pushing his hips into Ron’s questing palm. He thinks he just might come right then and there when the small mobile phone on the end table rings. “Ron, can you get that?”

“Busy.” He’s got a mouthful of Harry’s ear lobe. “Can’t.”

Harry sighs as the damn thing continues to ring. He picks it up and sees it is from a Ministry number. “Hello?”

“Potter, Shacklebolt here. Are you moved in yet?”

“Hello, sir. Yes. We’re here and are settling in nicely,” Harry says, trying to keep his mind focused on the fact he’s talking to his boss and not on the fact that Ron has slid to his knees in front of him and is spreading his legs apart. “We still need to do some shopping, but other than that, it’s quite comfortable here.”

“Good. Keep Weasley from doing any magic. I noticed his signature a few minutes ago.”

“I will, sir. It was just a temporary lapse on his part.” Ron is suavely tugging at Harry’s hips, encouraging him to unbend at the waist; he’s sliding the top button of his jeans, then the second, and now the third. . .”

“Remember, no magic. No Firecalling, and no Apparation. Weasley has to learn how to move about in the Muggle world, and he only has a week to do it. And you probably need to remember how to do some things, too.”

“We’ll be fine. He’s promised not to do any more magic this week.” Ron has freed Harry’s straining cock and is running his hand up and down the shaft. He looks up at Harry and licks his lips.

“I’m sure he won’t. Well, this number is always monitored, so if you do happen to run into any dark wizards and need backup, just call.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry says, his voice strains as Ron licks the tip of the leaking head.

“You all right, Potter?”

“Yes, sir, no problems here,” Harry replies, placing his hand on Ron’s head to prevent him from swallowing his shaft at that second. “We’ll let you know if the Auror division can help us out. Thanksforcallingbye!”

Harry snaps the folding phone closed and removes his hand from the thick red hair. Ron deep-throats him immediately. “Fuuuuuuuck!” he exclaims in relief. “Ron, fuck me.”

But Ron shakes his head while sucking the top of Harry’s eager cock. Harry watches as Ron’s cheeks hollow with each pass. He picks up Ron’s free hand and sucks on his middle finger. “I love watching you sucking me.”

Ron makes an unintelligible sound of agreement and then nibbles ever so slightly on the rim the purple head. Harry gasps. “Ron, I’m. . .gonna. . .come!” And he does.

Ron sucks until Harry’s orgasm passes, swallowing each drop. As Harry’s body relaxes into bliss, Ron moves to sit beside him again, gathering him in his arms. “That was for this morning’s blow job in the shower,” Ron says, kissing Harry’s hair. “And for dealing with Kingsley. And for saving my arse.”

“Mmm, no problem, mate. Thanks for building the fire.”

They sit snuggled in front of a roaring fire. “I can think of one good reason to live in the Muggle world,” Ron says finally.

“What’s that?”

“No annoying Floo calls while your cock is hanging out of your pants,” Ron says. “Hey, we can _have sex_ in front of the fire even and no one will know.”

Harry laughs. “All you have to do is not light the fire, you git.”

“And get told off by my mum for not being available? I don’t think so.” Ron leans in and kisses Harry.

Harry returns it, deepening the kiss as he runs his hands through the red tresses he loves so much. Just as it starts to become _something_ , the silvery mobile phone rings again. Harry hands it to Ron, and reluctantly breaks the kiss. “You answer it.”

“Why?” Ron says, trying to kiss him again. “I know how to answer a tellfone.”

“Not like this one. It’s a mobile.”

Ron looks at it, puzzled. “Um…you flip this part up, right?” He did so, and held up the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he says loudly.

Harry gently takes it from him and turns it around. “Hello?” he says again.

Harry shakes his head, and whispers, “Not so loud. Just listen.”

Ron smiles and listens to the voice. “Oh, hi. Yeah, I’m fine. We’re fine. Yeah, no problems. We’ll be fine. Okay. Yeah. Okay. Bye.”

He closes the phone with a slight scowl. “Wrong. Even in the Muggle world, my parents can find me.”

*~*

“You ready to go?” Harry asks, pulling on a jacket.

“Yeah. Just need to finish putting a piece of wood on the fire.” Ron stands and pulls the firescreen in front of the fireplace. “D’you know where the market is?”

“Yup. Several blocks down and five blocks west,” Harry says, patting the pocket of his jacket. “I have the map. And you have to lead us. So, do we take the bus or walk?”

Ron snorts. “You’re kidding, right? In this cold, we take the bus.”

“All right,” Harry says. “Got your Oyster card?”

“My what?”

“Bus pass. This.” Harry shows him the white and blue plastic card.

“Oh, yeah.” Ron pulls it out of his trouser hip pocket. “Why’s it called an ‘oyster’?”

“Dunno, but you’ll need it to pay for the bus ride.”

“Man, it’s expensive to be a Muggle,” Ron says, pulling on a knitted cap. “They have to pay to get around. They have to pay for petrol for their cars.”

“Well, you know how expensive it is to buy a top-quality broomstick. Same thing.”

“Yeah, but once you pay for it, it’s yours. No putting petrol in it or anything. And you can Apparate for free.”

“True that,” Harry says. “Whoa. It’s really snowing hard!”

The two young men stand on the covered porch and watch thick snowflakes fall furiously. It is near white-out; street lamps have come on, even though it is just after noon.

“I wonder how the busses can get through,” Ron says. “They aren’t like the Knight Bus.”

They stand at the corner of their street—Balliol Close—and wait. And wait. And wait.

“Harry, I don’t think that bus is coming.” Ron brushes the snow off his cap, then brushes off Harry’s jacket.

“I think you’re right. Let’s start walking.”

“You got the map?”

“Yep. We go up this street for two blocks and then over five. Easy enough.”

Harry and Ron don’t say much as they walk through the silent, snowy streets. A clump of snow falls from a laden tree branch onto Harry’s head. “Hey!” he says jovially.

“Even the trees are after you, mate.”

They finally reach the market called Tesco after two wrong turns and a lot of grumbling. Ron enjoys pushing the cart around after Harry, though he runs into Harry’s back several times. They fill the cart with a six-pack of ale, sliced meat, bread, two boxes of cereal (Coco Pops and Frosties!), milk, tea, four flats of doughnuts and muffins from the bakery that Ron couldn’t resist, two frozen pizzas, and a bag of grapes Harry threw in response to an inner nagging voice that sounded like Hermione’s. They’re heading towards the checkout lines when suddenly Ron makes a startling announcement. “Hey, we have to carry all this stuff back to the house. Without magic,” he adds, whispering.

“Come on, Ron. Can’t handle a couple of bags of groceries?” Harry teases.

“That six-pack is gonna be heavy. And do we need two liters of milk when one will do? Do we have to buy food for four days when we could really just get by with enough for just two?” Ron is evaluating their choices. “Although, I really want the box of Coco Pops.”

Harry laughs. “You can keep the Coco Pops. Let’s put some of these doughnuts back.”

“Oh, do we have to? I really would like to try those with the sprinkles on top.” Ron is eyeing them hungrily.

“Fine. But two have to stay here.”

They put several items back and wait in line at the checkout; they put them on the counter for the girl with pink streaks in her hair to ring up. “Okay, you can pay,” Harry says. “It’s £38.75.”

Ron pulls out his wallet and hands the checkout girl two crisp twenty pound notes and then a pound coin. She hands him the change. Ron beams. “Hey, I did it.”

“Shhh,” Harry warns, picking up their two fabric bags. “You did great! But don’t let them know that.”

They each shoulder a large grocery bag and head back out into the snow. It is noticeably, and significantly, deeper.

“You know, snow is a lot prettier when you don’t have to walk two kilometers in it,” Ron moans. “I loved the snowball battles at Hogwarts.”

“I seem to remember a fair amount of complaining when you walked through it to Hogsmeade,” Harry says, wiping snow from his glasses. “And it’s not that far back to the house.”

“Well, it sure seems like it.”

They trudge through the deep snow. Ron’s long legs give him a definite advantage over Harry, who struggles through several places. “Here, gimme your hand,” Ron says, when Harry stops to take a breather.

“I can do it.”

“I know. Well, if you won’t let me help, give me the bag.”

“I can carry it.”

“Suit yourself.”

Ron backs off, seeing that Harry’s annoyed with him. Then, from behind them, a passenger bus drives along very slowly, its lights flashing.

“Hey!” Ron yells, waving his arms. “HEY! STOP!”

But the bus continues along at the slow pace. The driver passes them, shaking his head. “What the hell, man?” Ron huffs. “I thought they were supposed to stop and pick people up!”

“Probably can’t. If he stops, he may get stuck,” Harry says, somewhat miserably. “It’s not his fault.”

“Yeah, well. Some customer service that is.”

They continue for another few blocks until Harry pulls them up. “Um…I don’t remember this street. Where’s Trumbull?”

“Trumbull? I’ve been looking for Exeter.”

“No, I though we turned left on Trumbull to get to Balliol Close. I don’t remember this on. You have the map?” Harry asks.

“No. You have the map.”

“No. I gave you the map in the store.”

“No. I didn’t want the map because I’m crap reading Muggle maps.”

“Which is why I gave it to you because you have to learn how to read one.”

Tempers flare a bit. “OK, let’s think,” Ron says. “We came down Exeter—“

“No, we came down Trumbull from Exeter because we turned off a block too soon—“ Harry looks around, trying to orient himself, but the gathering gloom and relentless snow make it nearly impossible to read street signs.

“Well, fuck, Harry.” Ron reaches up and knocks the snow off the street sign. “Ha!” he says. “It’s Exeter Street! I can get us home from here. There’s this house with a cool looking sculpture thing in the front yard.”

Harry feels a surge of relief. He knows how to navigate, but the snow and lack of a kip after his orgasm has put him off his game. But he trusts Ron’s confidence in getting them home; he may not be familiar with Muggle maps, but Ron remembers things that catch his attention.

After turning and walking several blocks, they come upon a house with a large sculpture in the yard. “This is it,” Ron says. “I kinda like that. Looks like a faery.”

“Muggles call this an angel,” Harry replies, stepping into the yard to examine the angel. “Muggles believe angels can guard you, protect you from bad things.”

Ron thinks for a moment. “Are they alive?”

“Some believe they are. They could be the souls of loves ones who’ve died.”

“Like a ghost?”

“I think they’re different from ghosts—angels don’t talk to you, like, say Nearly Headless Nick.”

“Nick’ll bloody talk to anything,” Ron says. “So what good are angels?”

“I reckon Muggles want to think someone’s got their back,” Harry replies. “Kinda like you for me.”

Ron grins to himself. “Yeah, maybe like you are for me, too.”

“Nope. You’re the one who’s always protected me.”

“So that you can protect all of us.”

“That’s my job. That’s _our_ job as Aurors. Making the wizarding world safe for us all.”

They both laugh, and swing the grocery bags. The snow continues to fall heavily. Harry has to wipe his glasses constantly.

“Merlin, I wish I could do an Impervius charm on my glasses. This is bloody annoying,” Harry says, taking his glasses off for the umpteenth time.

“Take them off. I’ll lead you,” Ron says. “Besides, we can’t be far now. Ah-HA! There it is.”

The little blue and white single cottage appears across the street. “Come on!”

Harry turns and tumbles off the kerb. “Ow! Shite!”

“Harry, you all right?” Ron hauls him up by the bicep. “You ok?”

“Um…not sure. Oh, that’s not good.” Harry steps gingerly on his foot. “Oh, that’s not good at all.”

“Hurts?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Well, thank Merlin we’re here. Give me your bag and wait. I’ll put these up and help you.” Ron takes the bags and heads across the street.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Harry mutters, standing and putting weight on his right foot. It hurts, but not too badly. He starts, limping heavily, but manages to cross to the other side. “I can make it, Ron. Don’t worry,” he says as Ron comes towards him.

“No, you can’t.” He takes Harry’s arm and pulls it about his waist. “So what do we need to do since we can’t use magic?”

“Um…I think we need to use ice on it to keep the swelling down. And some pain killers. There’s a bottle of pain potion in the cabinet in the kitchen. Look, I just twisted it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, you always say that.” Ron helps him up the steps to the porch and through the front door. He brushes snow off of Harry’s hat and jacket. He shakes it from his own cap.

“You’re going to sit on the sofa, and I’m going to take care of dinner and your foot,” Ron says, determined.

“I’d rather you take care of me in other ways,” Harry says with a wicked grin. He winces as he drops to the sofa.

“Later, you wanker. Ice, pain potion, dinner—in that order.”

Ron walks quickly to the kitchen, finds and fills a plastic bag with ice from the freezer and looks in the cabinet for potion. “Finally, something I understand,” he mumbles as he pulls a phial from a rack.

“Okay. Ice, pain potion. What the hell are you doing?” Harry is by the fireplace, stirring the glowing coals with the poker. “I can do that.” He pulls Harry away and hands him the items. “Now, dinner. Um…how do I do that?”

Harry puts the bag of ice on his ankle, elevated by sofa pillows. “Look on the back of the pizza box for the temperature, and look for the temperature dial on the cooker. That’ll start the oven; when it beeps, the oven is ready and you put the pizza in and set the timer for the time it needs.”

“Got it. Temperature. Dial. Cooker.” Ron repeats.

He returns to the kitchen and pulls one of the pizza boxes out of a bag. “Temperature: 180°C. Dial—dial…dial. Ah. Spin to…180. Little light comes on. Handy. Now, put the pizza in…no, ‘remove pizza from the box and protective wrapper. Oh. Right.” He prepares the pizza, and waiting for the oven to heat, he puts their groceries away. “Hey, I can do this Muggle thing. A bit boring, but it’s not so bad.” He opens two beers and takes one to Harry. “Oven’s almost ready, and soon we’ll have hot pizza.”

“Excellent. I’m starving,” Harry says, his spirits lifted by the thought of food. “Cheers, mate. Thanks for getting us home.” They touch bottles.

“No problem.” A faint beeper sounds. “Ah, the oven is ready. Yay!”

Harry chuckles as he watches a domestic Ron run to the kitchen. “I like you like this,” he calls.

“Like what?” Ron returns.

“All domestic and caring and stuff.”

Ron flops down beside him and gives Harry a kiss. “I’m always like this.”

“Um… no, you’re not, but I could get used to this.”

“Tell you what. I’m going to really get into this Muggle stuff this week. And if I go all weeks without asking for my wand once, I get to top for a whole month.”

“Impressive,” Harry says. “All right, you’re on. If I don’t have to listen to you whinge about not having magic or your wand, that’s worth being topped. Besides,” Harry says, “it’s not such a bad arrangement. I’m rather fond of your cock up my arse.”

Ron takes the bottle of beer from Harry’s hand, and instantly envelopes him in a hug, a fierce, fiery kiss follows. He kneads Harry’s crotch. Harry hardens instantly, as he gropes for Ron.

Ron carefully slides his knee between Harry’s legs, taking care to not jostle the injured ankle. “You up for this?” he asks.

“Yes. Always.”

Ron kisses him again, lips and tongue pressed hard to Harry’s. He tastes of Newcastle, smells of smoky beech ash, and feels of desire. His hand finds his nipple, gives it a tweak that makes him gasp around the kiss. Ron smiles, and does it again.

“Like that do you?”

“Yes. I love everything you do to me.”

Slowly, Ron lowers his body to the sofa, carefully grinding his hard length to Harry’s. Harry lifts his hips to meet Ron’s, centimeter to centimeter. The friction is fabulous; he could do this all night, forever.

As the passion grows between them, the kitchen fills with smoke, then the hallway. The smoke detector blares shrilly.

“WHAT? Who’s there!?” Ron yells, leaping off of Harry and reaching for his non-existent wand. “What’s going on?”

Harry gets up and hobbles to the entryway. “Ron! The pizza!”

“Oh, shite! I forgot about it!” Ron dashes past him and into the kitchen, which is filled with smoke. He throws open the oven door and more smoke pours out. “What do I do?”

Harry follows behind him, throwing open windows. “Open the back door!”

Ron does. The cold blasts in, bringing with it a foot of snow and more on the breeze. “Oh, man. It’s still snowing outside!”

“Can you get to the pizza?” Harry asks, leaning on the door jam.

“Got it.” Ron reaches into the oven with a tea towel, and pulls out a blackened circle. “Well, shite. What a waste of perfectly good pizza.”

“Toss it outside.”

“With pleasure.” Ron gives it a flip and the black disc sails through the back door and into the dark. “Fuck, there goes dinner.”

“There’s still another one. Let’s get it going,” Harry says. “Hey, this is my fault too, you know. I shouldn’t have distracted the cook.”

“You can’t help if you’re sexy,” Ron says matter-of-fact. “Should’ve set the timer thingee here.”

Harry beams. “I’m going to turn you into a Muggle yet.”

“Please don’t. I’m a wizard and I’d like to stay that way.”

“Ok, maybe just get you to be comfortable with Muggles. How about that?”

“No problem there.” Ron slides the other pizza in the oven. “Vegetarian? Harry, since when do you eat vegetarian pizza?”

“I don’t usually. It’s just that you got that meat feast one and the Hermione-voice in my head prompted me to offset it with a veggie one.”

“Great. Now we have no meat, and nothing but rabbit food.”

“You can eat my meat,” Harry says, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Keep that thought until this damn thing comes out of the oven, you sexy beast.” Ron swats him with the tea towel.

“Ow! Git!”

“Sexy arse.”

“Wanker.”

*~*

“See? It wasn’t so bad,” Harry says as they clear up the table.

“Bloody bland. Blech!”

“So now what? Want a doughnut?”

“No. I want my meat.”

Harry throws back his head, laughing. “C’mere, you.”

“Hey, your ankle’s better, is it?” Ron asks, as he and Harry walk to the living room.

“It’s still sore, but yeah, the ice helped a lot and the pain potion did its job.” As Harry says this, the lights flicker off and on several times, and then everything goes out. “Whoops. Power outage. Did you see any candles in the kitchen cabinets?”

“Actually, yeah, I did.”

Ron returns with a battery-powered torch and an armful of chunky white candles and a box of matches. “Now, this I understand,” he says, setting out candles strategically around the living room., and lighting them “I know how to light a dark room.” Soon the room is glowing brightly. “Yeah, I like this.”

Harry is standing at the window. “It’s still snowing like a son of a bitch. I didn’t think London got this kind of snowfall. Weird, this.” He looks around. “How about if we spend the night down here in front of the fire? It’s going to get cold soon without the furnace running.”

“I like how you think. I’ll go get pillows and blankets,” Ron says. He runs up the steps with the torch.

Harry smiles as his lover scampers after bedding Even though he is somewhat uneasy about the power being out, and no magic to secure the house, he loves the silence and the blanket of white covering the city.

He hugs himself as he watches the falling snow. He’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t hear Ron return, until warm arms surround him. “Knut for your thoughts,” Ron breathes in his ear.

“That should be a penny for your thoughts,” Harry corrects, turning in Ron’s arms. “I get to top.”

“Nothing doing. I haven’t whined once.”

“Since the pizza burned, you mean.”

“Ok, so I did a little bit. But you have to admit, a good wind charm would’ve cleared the house out straightaway.”

“You’re right. But it gave us a good idea of how Muggles live and have to deal with things when they go wrong.” Harry places a kiss at the hollow of Ron’s throat.

“Hmm.” Ron moves his head and finds Harry’s lips with his. “Wanna make love to my wizard,” he murmurs. “Come on.”

Ron leads them to the sofa. “Look what I discovered: the sofa becomes a bed!”

“Brilliant!”

Ron has unfolded the sofa bed and piled blankets and pillows on top of it. After arranging them to be slept on, Ron pulls Harry onto the soft surface. “Gonna love you now,” he says.

Harry says nothing, but pulls off his jumper, and unbuckles his belt; Ron follows suit, and soon they are both naked, and shivering slightly. Ron pulls the duvet over them.

Harry runs his hands through the fiery copper whirls on Ron’s chest. He loves the soft hairs on hard, defined muscle. Ron has filled out in just the few years since they left Hogwarts. They weren’t lovers then, though they had been moving toward the moment when love exploded between them. In the short time they’ve been together, Harry has learned startling things about his best mate, but most especially the depth of Ron’s love for him; the long-held desire the caused Ron agony for _years;_ his passion during lovemaking; how large Ron’s cock is when fully erect.

His hand is stroking that erect, weeping cock now. Harry gives the slick slit a pinch, causing Ron to moan.

“Harry,” Ron whispers, “Need you now.”

Wordlessly, with a satisfied smile, Harry rolls onto his back and pulls his knees to his chest. Ron picks up the pot of their favorite lube, liberally coats his fingers, then gently massages Harry’s entrance until one finger, then two, slip easily inside.

Harry’s eyes flutter closed upon feeling his body relax, breached and stroked tenderly by his lover. As Ron adds a third finger, Harry’s passion intensifies.

“Ron. Now.”

Ron slicks his cock and with care, he pushes the tip just inside Harry’s body, watching for any sign of discomfort. Seeing nothing but passion he slides all the way in, reveling in the tight heat. He shifts Harry’s knees to rest on his shoulders; the change in the angle causes Ron’s penis to touch Harry’s prostate. Harry gasps. “Do it again,” he says.

“What? That?” Ron pumps out, then in again.

“Yessss,” Harry hisses. “Again.”

“Gladly.”

Harry quivers, making desperate mewling sounds as Ron relentlessly pounds into him. “So close, so close,” he chants. He takes his needy cock in hand and pulls pulls pulls until he comes with a strangled gasp.

Ron is filled with delight seeing Harry’s face crumple into orgasmic bliss, and it is all it takes to push him over into his own release. He pumps hard, wringing the last shards of pleasure, then breathing hard, he hangs his head and kisses Harry gently.

Their kiss lingers. A log in the fireplace pops, throwing sparks; light brightly blazes. Finally, Ron rolls to Harry’s side, and he gathers him in his arms. “Mmm…that was nice.”

“Very,” Harry replies sleepily. “I think we need to put some more wood on the fire before we go to sleep. I’ll take care of it.” He slides from the bed and adds several logs to the fire, stirring the coals to encourage them to catch. “Better. That should last for a few more hours.”

Ron holds the covers open as Harry gets back into bed. “This isn’t the greatest mattress in the world, but at least we’ll stay warm if the eklec--elec—ticity—electricity doesn’t come back on.”

“There’s no way I can freeze, not with you wrapped around me,” Harry says. “You’re my personal fire.”

“Mmm…fire.” Ron is fading fast.

As Harry snuggles in, he’s pleased that the first day of Muggle culture has been a good experience for them both, and looks forward to more.


End file.
